Harvesters
by Emmylou
Summary: Hermione's death nearly destroys those left behind her. Will Ron and Harry's friendship survive it? And will Ginny and Harry's fledging relationshp collapse because of it?
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Harvesters

**Author**: Emmylou

**Summary**: Grief is a selfish emotion, and when Harry and Ron become desperate for the things that meant so much to Hermione, will these things give them comfort or rip them further apart?

**Disclaimer**: _Harry Potter_, the characters, creations, and settings are the property of JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and other associated trademarks. This is a fictional piece created solely in respect of the original work with no infringement intended, nor any profit being made.

**Rating**: PG-13

**Pairings**: Well. I set out to write a Gen fic...but it surprised me by turning into a H/G fic…and I dislike H/G but I really enjoyed writing the ship in this. There are some R/Hr hints (I'm a R/Hr shipper, don't worry)

**Author's Notes**: This piece marks the end of nearly nine months of writer's block. Inspiration came while I was in the shower and for the first time in a long time I put fear aside and actually tried to write. No- I do not normally think about Harry Potter in the shower. I wrote this listening to Bing Crosby's '_Have Yourself a Merry little Christmas'_, I really recommend listening to it as you read.

* * *

Hermione had poured her heart and soul into her little home. She, Ron, and Harry had spent a pleasant afternoon mixing paint charms to find the right shades for the walls; she'd chosen lovely wooden furniture and put certificates and badges up on the walls.

Ron and Harry had spent most of their free time at Hermione's house. They were twenty and had not yet mastered the art of picking up their own socks, while there wasn't even a cat hair visible in Hermione's little cottage.

"This is going to be strange," said Ginny hoarsely as she, Ron, and Harry climbed the hill up to the house. There wasn't another house visible for miles, just hills and trees. "You know, being there after…"

"We're just going to say goodbye," said Ron. He was looking resolutely at the ground as though he daren't look at the house.

"I don't see why they can't hold onto the house," said Ginny suddenly as they neared the end of their climb. "It's disgusting the way the bank is just taking-"

"Hermione took out the loan to pay for the house. It's theirs technically," said Ron irritably.

Harry remained silent. He wished he could block out what they were saying and then maybe it would be like all he other times they had apparated to Hermione's house and climbed the hill. Ginny could be complaining about some silly little thing- such as her robes being soaked- and Ron would be trying to get her to shut up…and then Hermione would actually answer the door when they got to the top.

"Couldn't you talk to them?" demanded Ginny. "You're the wonderful _banker_ now after all, couldn't you explain?"

"You know Goblins," snapped Ron.

Harry marched ahead up the path and reached the door first. He rang the bell and waited.

"Harry…" said Ginny as she reached him. She couldn't seem to think of anything else to say though, because she sniffled silently and reached in front of him with the key. She opened the door and the three of them stood on the threshold. Ron pulled his hat off and peered into the dark hallway miserably.

"Wouldn't it be wonderful if she's just…leapt out…you know, yelled 'surprise' or something."

"Even Fred and George wouldn't find that funny Ron," said Ginny.

"Well, Hermione never had much of a sense of humour." He swallowed. "C'mon. It's cold out here."

He brushed passed Harry and stepped inside. Harry and Ginny didn't move until there was a glow of light and Ron reappeared after lighting the lamps in the living room with his wand.

"The one in the hall doesn't light," he said. "Hermione said she was going to get it fixed…"

They stood still for a moment before shuffling inside. Harry helped Ginny remove her cloak and they shook the snow from their hats and scarves before hanging them up.

"It's cold in here…" said Ginny. "I'll go light a fire." She brushed past them into the sitting room.

Harry and Ron stood in the shadows of the hall, trying not to look at the stairway ahead of them or at the unsent letters on the letter rack by the door.

"You again…" said the hall mirror as Harry and Ron moved into its line of sight. "Well…it's what's inside that matters I suppose."

They stared glumly at the visible splotches on the cheeks and their messy hair.

"S'pose it's politer than the one mum has," said Ron gruffly. "That one told me I looked like a tramp this morning."

Ginny poked her head back into the hall to tell them the fire was alight and Ron and Harry gingerly followed her inside.

"I expected more…dust…or something," said Ginny. "It's so clean." The gestured around at the polished wood and a spotless bookshelves. The room looked cosy- it seemed Ron hadn't wanted to stay long enough to light anything but the lamps.

"It's only been a week," said Harry. "One week."

Ron padded over to the couch and sat down as though it might explode. He was looking around him as though he were a guest in a stranger's home, not as if he were sitting in a place he'd sat in hundreds of times.

"It was so unfair…" said Ginny thickly as she joined her brother and hugged him lightly. "The war's over…people are happy again, mostly, she shouldn't have got sick."

"Mum said Muggle-borns are affected worse by these bugs…and Hermione had a bad reaction to one of those healing spells. It just happened…" Ron seemed at a loss to continue. "There's no one to blame…or to yell at."

"We can't do anything," said Harry. He sunk onto the pouffe near the couch. When all three of them visited one of them had to because the couch only took two and Hermione would sit in her own chair.

They sat in silence, unable to think of what to do next.

"What will happen to her things?" asked Ginny. "The furniture and…and stuff?"

"Uh…the things she used the loan to buy – the furniture and curtains I guess – the bank will sell those with the house." Ron stroked the couch absently. "The other things…her books…her clothes…I think her parents are going to come and get them."

They looked around again, it seemed impossible that this would be the last time they ever saw Hermione's home again.

They were all startled by a chirping noise. A robin in a calendar on the mantelpiece was twittering to get their attention.

Ginny removed the leg she had tucked underneath herself and walked over to the calendar. She ran her fingers along the uncrossed days until she reached the eighteenth of December.

"Put up decorations for Christmas," she read aloud. "Oh I'll miss doing that…remember last year? How Ron had to lift her up to put the Angel on the tree- it was enormous!"

"She had nice decorations," said Ron. He looked to the corner where the tree had been placed for the last two years.

"I think we should do it again!" said Ginny eagerly. "A sort of goodbye present. She'd have loved us to see the house decorated again…alive…even if she- she couldn't be here."

"It's not like she's gone on holiday Ginny," said Harry sharply.

"For us then," she pleaded. "Don't you want to see the house lit up again?"

"It's not the same without her!" Harry said angrily. He got up, suddenly shouting for a reason he couldn't quite remember. "She's not here to tell us off for wearing the baubles as earrings or charming the musical fairies to sing rude songs. She won't have us move the tree around the entire room-" he waved around expansively, "-before deciding it looked better in the first place and Crookshanks isn't going to try and climb up the stupid tree!" he pointed up towards where the point of the tree would have been. "So what's the_ point_!"

"The house is so cold without her," said Ron softly. "It'd just be nice to remember it warm with her memory…even if she's not here. Like Ginny said."

"You don't have to Harry," said Ginny kindly.

Harry sagged back onto the pouffe.

"It's- it's just never going to be the same, is it?" he croaked.

Ginny shook her head.

"No. It's not," she said finally. "I don't understand this any more than you do. But I want to do this."

She remained staring at him, the room was quiet again.

"Okay," he said finally. "We'll try."

Ginny and Ron smiled gently and as one leapt into action, as if determined to cover up the quiet.

"Ginny, can you go and find the decorations- knowing Hermione they'll be a perfect box labelled 'decorations' right at the front of the attic. Harry, you can help me conjure a tree? I don't fancy going out and cutting down one in that snow."

Harry and Ginny nodded. Ginny trotted off upstairs and Harry began by conjuring a pot to hold the tree in.

The next ten minutes passed quickly. Ron found the magical gramophone that Hermione nearly always had on and set some Christmassy tunes going. There was some friendly arguing over whether Harry's half of the tree leant a bit too far right and whether Ron's was too prickly.

There was some creaking and thumping going on upstairs, and Ginny returned shortly with a three boxes. One was a large one and the others were shoe box sized.

"Aha! I knew you wouldn't let us down Hermione," cried Ron as he laid eyes on the box predictably labelled 'decorations'. One of the smaller ones was clearly marked 'Angel'. The other Ginny rested on the pouffe before being caught up in an argument over the prickliness of the lower half of the tree and whether it was the wrong green.

"I swear, she is…was…the most organised person in the world!" said Ron. He said it every time they saw the decorations. The glass baubles, red and gold, were wrapped in tissue paper. Other little ornaments had their own boxes and bags. Underneath these were carefully rolled up tinsel that leapt from the tree every now and again to wrap around the nearest person's throat like a feather boa. Then there was a nativity scene and an advent candle, and two rolls of wrapping paper that they recognised from their gifts last year.

The only thing that was untidy was a bag that turned out to have the world's most knotty string of fairy lights. The fairies had predictably wound themselves up over the year despite Hermione's carefully placed spells to keep them organised.

"I kept telling her," laughed Ron, "there isn't a spell invented that can keep those fairies from destroying your carefully un-knotted row of lights. Me and Percy would spend hours undoing them when we were little."

The three of them sat by the fireplace trying to sort out the excited fairies, Ron was stretched out on his stomach, Harry cross-legged. Ginny was leant against the pouffe, eyes half-closed and head rested near the box on top of it.

"I don't know what you're complaining about," she huffed. "Whenever we decorated the tree Fred and George spent the entire day scaring me and threatening to turn me into a dolly and put _me _on the tree."

"They were just bitter because mum wouldn't let them dress up a gnome to use."

Harry listened to their stories and laughed, he wondered if Ron and Ginny were wondering about some of the stories from Hermione's childhood as he was. Had she had her _father_ carry the tree around the house until she found the perfect spot? Had she scolded her mother for wearing tinsel around her head? Had her parents made jokes about putting her on the tree?

"Hermione's decorations were always so pretty," said Ginny, she reached into the box and picking one up. It was a little glass robin, fluttering its wings in the light.

"Yeah," said Ron, as he put the row of lights into his mouth and began furiously tugging a knot apart with his hands. "They wer' luffley."

An hour later the lights were fluttering in the tree, the tinsel had been wrestled into place, and the tree was groaning with ornaments. Ron was moving about, hanging mistletoe and holly in the best spots he could find. He had balanced some on his head (for what reason no one knew, as it seemed unlikely he particularly wanted Harry or Ginny to kiss him).

"We've only got three ornaments left," said Ginny. "But if we try and add any more the tree will collapse."

She held them up. One was a reindeer, pawing at her hand, the other a heart shaped bauble, and the robin she had held up earlier.

"Can…can we keep them?" said Ron. "I dunno…to remind us of today when we miss Hermione terribly?"

They peered at the ornaments as if it was a terrible notion indeed.

"Yeah…" croaked Harry finally, "I'd like that."

They reached in. Harry's hand slipping around the reindeer, Ron taking the heart, before Ginny was left with the robin cupped in her hand. Silently they pocketed their prizes.

"Hermione left us with one more gift," said Ginny softly. "I…I found it in the attic."

She walked over to the pouffe and held up the box that Harry could now clearly see labelled 'Pictures'.

"I only got a glimpse," said Ginny quickly, "but there must be hundreds of pictures in there- Muggle ones too. There might even be some of Christmas when Hermione was little."

They all looked at the box again, as if such a rare gift could not be given.

"Open it then," said Ron desperately.

"No," said Ginny, clutching it away from his as though frightened he might snatch it.

"Ginny! How can you act like this!" shouted Ron. "How can you act like you've got all the answers and tell us how to grieve. I cried all night when- when she died. All night. I looked at all the photos I had of her a thousand times. This is my-our-" he waved desperately at Harry, "-chance to see her a little bit more. Our final chance to learn something about her! About Hermione!"

Ginny began crying silently.

"I just…just meant…that I wanted to look through them alone. I thought you might want to too."

She held the box out between them. Any one of them would be able to take it first. But they just stared.

"Who gets to look through it first?" demanded Ron.

There was silence at this. Harry knew that each of them wanted that box more than anything in a long time.

Finally Ron breathed deeply and spoke again. "As far as I can see it…it's only fair that…Harry gets it first. He was nicer to her…at first…than me. I was cruel. And Ginny knew her last. So it should go Harry, me, Ginny. "

Harry paused before reaching for the box. It was the sort of moment in which you say 'Oh, no, I couldn't.' and let the vicar take the last cream cake, when you've been salivating over it for an hour.

And this was too important surely. They'd get their turn.

Ginny held the box out to him and he took it, holding it to his chest as though it might suddenly be taken from him.

"C'mon," said Ginny quietly. "Let's go home."

Ron extinguished the fire and lights, leaving just the blinking tree. They left the gramophone on, because it seemed awful to leave a silent house, and locked the door behind them. They pulled their cloaks and hats closer to them and stomped through the snow to the bottom of the hill.

"I'll, uh, pass them on to you Ron, tomorrow," said Harry awkwardly.

Ron nodded silently, and they disapparated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Harvesters

**Author**: Emmylou

**Summary**: Grief is a selfish emotion, and when Harry and Ron become desperate for the things that meant so much to Hermione, will these things give them comfort or rip them further apart?

**Disclaimer**: _Harry Potter_, the characters, creations, and settings are the property of JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and other associated trademarks. This is a fictional piece created solely in respect of the original work with no infringement intended, nor any profit being made.

* * *

Harry had made up his mind to keep one of the pictures before he ever opened the box. He had come home, prodded at the fire with his wand and boiled some tea. Then he had padded into his bedroom and rooted around in his old trunk to pull out his photo-album.

Each precious page was packed with pictures of his parents. They were smiling or laughing, sometimes they looked surprised, as if the camera had flashed in their face. Harry had poured over each photo perhaps a hundred times. Every time he would wish for just one more photo, one more thing he could use to glean information about them.

But this was different, he had known Hermione. He knew the sort of food she ate at dinner, the clothes she wore, and the music she hummed along to. The everyday little things he knew about her were the sort of things he would have given so much to know about his parents.

It seemed very strange that despite the fact he knew all those little things about Hermione, looking at the unopened box next to him felt as rare a treat as receiving the photo album had been. This was his chance to learn all he might ever learn about Hermione.

One picture, he decided. Couldn't he have just one picture that no-one would ever know about?

With trembling fingers he opened the box. He was disappointed to see that it was not quite as stuffed full as he imagined, the pictures rattling around loosely. But there were at least fifty photographs, moving and still, in the box.

He closed his eyes and dipped his hand in, tugging the first one he reached for out. He had to go slowly and look carefully at each picture.

Harry laughed out loud when he saw a very familiar picture indeed. Ron and Hermione sniping at each other (Harry thought he saw a glint o a S.P.E.W badge being waved around by Ron). No doubt this had been taken by Colin Creevey in the common room, everyone looked very young. Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson were talking at a table behind the couch where Ron and Hermione were sitting. He himself was barely visible to the left of the picture, talking to someone and occasionally prodding at a piece of parchment. Hermione looked utterly comfortable, even with her scowling as Ron tossed the badge up in the air and caught it again.

This one, he thought, was utterly Hermione. He put it to one side. This would be the one he kept.

He reached for another. It was an unfamiliar picture. Strangely still after looking at the moving ones. Hermione's smile was locked, eyes un-sparkling. Her hair looked bushier than ever against the familiar blue background of a primary school photograph.

Did her school have a picture like this taken every year, like his had done? Had her mother brushed at her pristine uniform all morning and struggled to put an Alice band in the right position?

It was like a window to another world, a part of Hermione's life he'd never thought to ask much about.

He dipped his hand back into the box, again and again. Each time he learned something knew, or saw something he didn't remember. Different clothes, different smiles, the ways she stood, the vague impressions of what she was saying…he must have sat and stared poured through them for hours.

How could he choose just one photograph to keep? Had he really expected to find one photograph that was the 'essence' of Hermione? And even then had he thought he might just stick it in a photograph.

Had she even liked having her photograph taken?

The problem was, there were a million aspects to Hermione, and he had only seen a few parts. He picked up another, Hermione was laughing at a joke Ginny had told. How would he ever know what the joke was, or why it had made her laugh?

He got into bed, pulling the covers up high, as though they might somehow block his thoughts from the photographs. They, and their box, were sitting to one side like a perplexing question.

When he awoke the next morning, he looked at the photos again as he buttoned up his shirt and pulled on his trainers. Ron would no doubt ask for the photos today, and Harry wasn't sure he wanted to give them to him just yet.

He wanted to decide on one picture and look over them properly again before giving them back. Ron would never believe him if he said he'd forgotten them, maybe if he asked for a few more days…

"Do you have them?" asked Ron immediately. He glanced Harry over, clearly looking for a lump that would indicate a box full of pictures. "You know, the photos?"

He bit his lip nervously, as if he were about to receive some sort of medal.

What happened next was a totally spur of the moment thing. Harry told the biggest lie he'd told in just about ever.

"No," he said, swallowing nervously. "Don't you have them?"

The lie had appeared, carefully mapped out in his head. All he had to do was follow the story and he'd gain a days worth of looking at the photographs.

Ron met Harry's eyes. Harry looked down, almost ready to come clean…but Ron kept staring and Harry realised that Ron had mistaken his shame for lying as shame for loosing the photographs.

"What do you mean 'Don't you have them?'" demanded Ron in a ringing, accusatory tone. "_You_ had them! We agreed…I let you have them."

He looked so very upset that Harry faltered. He did not feel himself top be a natural liar, and Ron was his friend. Still, Ron would get them soon enough…it was just one day.

"I-I sent them with Hedwig, to you," the lie sounded guilty…but that was how he was supposed to sound. Harry couldn't stop himself digging deeper. "I sent them last night…I did…you should have them."

Ron gaped, his mouth opened as if to yell, but closed it again in a way that seem to stamp down an outburst.

"You sent those pictures by _OWL_?" he hissed.

"I thought you wanted them quickly."

Ron opened his mouth again, then closed it. He sat down, staring unseeingly ahead of him. He seemed utterly defeated.

"Right," he said. "Right…well…I'll never see them I guess. Ginny…I'll - you'll – _we'll_ have to tell her. I can't believe you risked sending something like that with a _bird_!"

"Hedwig's never lost a letter!" said Harry quickly. He felt a sudden need to stick up for the bird whose character he was damaging.

The plan in his head prodded him forward.

"I-I expect she's just stopped for a rest…she seemed tired. She'll turn up soon."

"Right," said Ron hollowly. "I, I'll have to get back to work. Lunch is nearly over."

He turned suddenly, with an expected sort of briskness and stomped away through the slush to the bank.

When Harry got home that night, he did not go into his bedroom. He made quite a production of removing his travelling cloak and hat and scarf. He rolled his gloves into a ball and stuffed them into the cloak pocket, hanging the cloak back up and brushing snow of off it. He sat down on his couch, leaning forward and briskly undoing his boots. He waved his wand and a trembling duster began cleaning the brick-a-brac that amounts on mantelpieces in a rather feeble manner.

He lit the fire, went into every room except his bedroom, closing the curtains and doing the little odd jobs he found along the way. When the lamps were lit and some murky soup had been prodded into a reasonable dinner, Harry looked around. A picture on the wall, a joke caricature of himself, Ron and Hermione (drawn by Dean) was moving energetically. Each of their oversized faces were mugging at him enthusiastically and Harry felt like throwing that in the bedroom with all the other pictures too.

He got up and stomped towards the door, forgetting the cloak, and throwing it open to peer into the dark night miserably. White snow was falling silently, caking the grass and window panes. Harry was distracted by a patch of light coming from a window of the bungalow near to him. The witch who lived their and her young daughter peeped out at the snow, pointing and laughing at the flakes. The little girl clapped as her mother waved her wand and the snow from above the door fell to the ground with a 'flump'.

After a while the faces were gone and Harry felt utterly alone.

_Oh yes_, he thought bitterly to himself. _This was worth it wasn't it? It was worth lying to the only friend you have left just so you could go home and tidy your flat while trying to forget that you feel guilty about the pictures you have stashed away…oh and an injustice upon your pet. _

"Well," he said in a sarcastic mutter. "At least my gloves are where I can find them."

He rubbed at the arms of his thin sweatshirt and wished that Hermione were still here to call him stupid and tell him how to fix it all.

_CRACK!_

Harry grabbed his wand out of habit, but lowered it and soon as the mini-flurry the apparition had caused fell away. Ron stood, breathless and upset looking in the snow. He jumped when he saw Harry in the doorway.

"Where've you been?" he panted. "I've been in that fireplace calling your name for ages! I wasn't going to floo in properly in case you weren't in…where've you been?"

Harry looked at the closed door into the sitting room, just visible in the low light. "I was here…I guess I couldn't hear you."

"I had to tell you…the goblins…oh I tried to change their mind…I went on and on about how it was too soon…"

"Ron, come inside," said Harry. He stepped back in, leaving Ron to follow. "What's going on?"

"The goblins!" said Ron, as though it were all perfectly obvious. "They've set the date they're going to auction Hermione's house…_boxing day_…I told them it was ridiculous, but they said that it was their legal prerogative to set the date and they already had people planning to turn up. The buyer won't take possession until new year though."

"Why tell me now?" said Harry.

Ron seemed lost in his own thoughts. "It's too soon," he said finally. "I thought maybe I'd have worked enough to- but it's too soon." He rubbed his eyes. "God…it's like we're loosing everything we have left of her isn't it? The photos, the house…"

Harry grunted. He did not feel like talking, but he wanted to know more about what had happened.

"Did they floo you at home? To tell you?"

"No," Ron shook his head. "I was doing a little overtime…what with- with uh Christmas and everything, I was just getting ready to leave to go- go home."

Harry got the impression that Ron was not being entirely truthful, and the part of him that felt awful for the pictures sitting on his dresser told him to leave it, but this was different, this was Hermione's house.

"Ron…_tell me_. What happened?"

"Look…I," Ron faltered. Then he seemed to adopt a determined face, as though needing to get something off his chest. "I had just finished doing some overtime…I was going to go down the Leaky Cauldron on, well, on a you know…a date."

Harry looked blankly at Ron. Even when Ron had eaten that love-potion in sixth year, he had never felt so strongly that he had no clue what Ron was talking about or, for that matter, who he was.

"Well, I'm glad you've found happiness," said Harry coldly. He turned and pinned Ron with an open stare, determined to drag the rest of it out of him.

"I never wanted to go," said Ron quickly. "Look…Janie has been pestering me for ages, before Hermione…and I never paid any attention. And then she came up to me after we spoke about the pictures and she looked concerned and her hair was falling out of its bun…and I just thought I'll go and have a drink and I'll feel a bit less awful and she'll stop going on at me. I don't want to go out with her!"

"Well, I'm sure she won't be sending _you_ a won-won necklace this year," said Harry.

"Look…and then my boss came in and he said that he knew I was interested in the affairs of that house and told me…and then I came looking for you. I didn't go on the date."

Harry didn't talk again. He conjured up some Butterbeer and they drank it in a stiff silence.

A hoot made them look around. Hedwig had soared in through the window he left slightly open for her and settled on her perch. Harry offered her a quick smile. Ron, however, leapt off the sofa.

"Where are they!"

He made a dive for the bird, as if trying to get it to answer him, then began lifting and rooting through things in its path flight, searching, Harry realised, for the box of pictures.

Ron dived for the window, peering into the snow as though his last chance were finding the box on the ground outside.

Harry stood guiltily, looking at the ground.

"She lost them!" cried Ron incredulously. "She lost them…your stupid bird lost the only thing of Hermione's we ever would have wanted!"

"She didn't!" said Harry. "She uh, maybe, she ah…" his mind seemed to have become blank. Any second Ron would realise (perhaps from Hedwig's look of injured innocence) that he had never sent the pictures to Ron. "Stop clutching her like that!" he snapped finally.

Ron let go of the bird with a final disgusted look in her direction. "Why didn't you give some of the pictures to Errol and Pig too?" he ranted, his voice high and sarcastic. "Then they could have scattered them about the country!"

"The…the string must have been loose," said Harry. "I'll look in the garden…"

"What's it matter to you?" yelled Ron. "You've seen them…I expect you wanted to be the last person to see them…"

That remark was so angry and so close to the bone that Harry wanted very much to hit Ron.

"I'd never destroy those photos," he said finally.

"Good for you," sniped Ron.

"I'll find them," promised Harry. "I'll give them to you."

"I don't want them anymore," snapped Ron, clearly lying. "I'm off."

He tugged his cloak on and marched to the door and left the house, Harry waited a long time and there was no CRACK of disapparition.

"ENJOY YOUR DATE!" he yelled, not caring if Ron heard him or not.

* * *

Thanks for reading! 


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Harvesters

**Author**: Emmylou

**Summary**: Grief is a selfish emotion, and when Harry and Ron become desperate for the things that meant so much to Hermione, will these things give them comfort or rip them further apart?

**Disclaimer**: _Harry Potter_, the characters, creations, and settings are the property of JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and other associated trademarks. This is a fictional piece created solely in respect of the original work with no infringement intended, nor any profit being made.

As usual with these sort of situations, Harry hadn't been angry for long, and by the next morning his stomach ached with guilt and general misery that he and Ron were on such uncertain terms.

He had dumped all the photos he had of Hermione, even ones that had not been in the box before, and tucked them under his robes before leaving for the bank.

As he meandered through Diagon Alley he tried to figure out what to say. He had browsed Flourish and Blotts and peered guiltily at the Owls in Eyelops before deciding to come clean totally. Maybe Ron would forgive him. He purchased a new water bowl for Hedwig and marched determinedly to the bank.

The bank was busy with Witches in Power-robes and Wizards browsing the _Financial Times (Galleon Supplement)_. Families were clearly rushing to get out money for Christmas.

"Not another one wanting to see their Finance Officer?" said a girl at the Personnel counter with a put-upon sort of disposition. "No Gunthor!" she said suddenly as a burly man clutching a bag of what seemed to be goblets and crowns pushed Harry aside. "You want _Treasury_ to see your Official Weighing-In Assistant. That's counter seventeen- where it deals with Curse-Breaking. You see?"

Gunthor the Curse-Breaker grunted and thundered off.

"Anyway back to you," she said, tucking her wispy hair back into a rather ambitions sort of bun. "You want to see your Finance Officer?"

Harry had rather distracted by a Goblin climbing up a ladder to fill in an enormous chequebook hanging from the domed ceiling, somehow managing to write with a quill at least as tall as he, Harry, was.

"I don't have a Finance Officer," said Harry blankly.

"So you want to arrange to meet one for an introduction? You've picked a very busy time you know…"

Harry felt rather put-off by the girl's 'Don't say because I already know' attitude. He glanced back to the gigantic cheque, where the Goblin was filling in the amount.

"For charitable donations over three hundred Galleons," she explained shortly asfter noticing where he was looking. "Now I can't get you an appointment until-"

"I want to see Ron Weasley," said Harry quickly, one arm clutched firmly around the box of photos.

"Don't be silly!" said the girl absent-mindedly. "Ron works in the Curse-Breaking and mapping department. He wouldn't be able to help you arrange your financial needs. Aha!" A pebble, with an ancient sort of rune pattern on it, seemed to drop from nowhere into a bowl on her desk. "You're in luck! Madame Kettleday has cancelled her appointment…I can see you myself in ten minutes."

"No- I want to see _Ronald Weasley_."

The girl cocked her head- as if finally hearing him.

"Oh very well," she said irritably. "I'll let you through…but remember your appointment with me in ten minutes!"

She tapped a velvet cord with her wand and it opened to let him through. Baffled at the people Gringotts employed, and feeling a bit nervous about the confrontation that was about to arise, Harry wandered through the marble corridors.

Harry had been to his own vault at Gringotts many times, but the dark twists and turns of the cart was nothing to the utter confusion caused by the endless corridors in the administration part of the building. Goblins moved about carrying gigantic books and every now and then he moved into open areas in which hundreds of them were sitting at desks, counting, calculating, and filling in ledgers. He walked past a room filled with nothing but abacuses and several more which seemed to have nothing but large books.

When he found signs to the mapping department, they never seemed to lead to anywhere of use. He was half wondering whether this was some retaliatory trick of Ron's when the woman from the counter bore down upon him.

"I've been waiting for ten minutes you know. I have other clients to think of…follow me."

She started walking away at an incredible pace, turning sharply at corners and not slowing down, even as Harry breathlessly tried to explain.

"You see…I don't want the appointment. I'm trying to talk to Ron Weasley…I can't find his office…"

The woman wasn't listening though, for she stopped at a door that seemed identical to the fifty or so others in the corridor, tapped it with her wand, and stepped inside.

"Sit down then," she said. There were two hard little chairs and a table. Harry got the impression that the bank did not seem fond of people who wanted to empty their vaults.

"Name."

"Er, Harry Potter."

"Everyone's a comedian at Christmas," she sighed. She looked up, her eyes darting to her forehead and paused. "Oh, right. Potter, Harry."

She tapped an in-tray with her wand and pulled out a file which now read 'Potter, Harry James.'

"Well Mr. Potter, you have five-thousand Galleons, seventeen Sickles, and three Knuts in your account. How much are you intending to take out?"

"Er…I dunno…fifty?"

"Fifty?" she echoed incredulously. "Mr. Potter, you are in the wrong department. You go to any of the main desks and they'll lead you to your vault. You can take out fifty Galleons there. Your Finance Officer deals with withdrawals of over one-thousand Galleons. Anything less and you're just wasting my time."

"But I don't want to draw out money…I want to see Ron Weasley."

"You've already seen him once," said the woman quite impatiently. "You can't see him again anyway…its lunch in ten minutes and we're going to get something to eat."

"We?" said Harry.

"Me and Ron," said the woman. "I offered to buy him lunch."

"Did you listen to his answer?" muttered Harry. "Listen, er…"

"Janie, Janie Wechsler."

"Janie…" the name clicked. Surely, _surely_, this wasn't the woman Ron had been planning to go for a drink with?

It all made sense now…the woman's bossy, no-nonsense, attitude, her strange brown hair piled up high, even her name…Janie…Jane. Ron was trying to keep a little piece of Hermione by going out with a woman who if you didn't really listen to her and squinted a bit, might bring Hermione to mind.

He clutched the box of photos tight under his robes.

"Listen Janie…"

"Madame Wechsler…" a Goblin with a scowl burst into the room. "Oh…" he saw Harry and paused. "I've got some documents regarding the sale of Bookworm Place for you."

Harry froze, and watched with fascination as the documents were handed to Janie.

When the Goblin had gone, Harry leaned forward to peer at the parchments.

"Are those regarding the sale of the house formerly belonging to Hermione Jane Granger?" he asked innocently.

"Yes," said Janie shortly. "Anyway…about this withdrawal…"

"How much is the bank predicting that the house will be sold for?" cut in Harry.

Janie attempted to pin some fallen hair back up. "With fittings? Well it could be for anything really…probably about ten thousand Galleons…"

"I want to buy it," said Harry.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Janie. "That would require a substantial loan…"

"How do I get one of those in time?"

"In _three days_?"

Harry nodded. He couldn't accept some cheap imitation of Hermione as Ron seemed to be able to…he needed the last, final piece of her.

"Well," said Janie. "You are currently unemployed?"

"I wasn't sure about what to do…after the war and everything." Still, if there was ever a time or reason to start working this was it.

"Well, you would have to bid for the house, and then pay back the amount you'd have overdrawn and pay it back at a fixed interest rate. You'd need to have a job by the time the payment would go through in the New Year otherwise the payment would become null-and-void…and Merlin help you if you don't keep up with your payments…"

"I'll do it," said Harry, shrugging off her warnings. "Can I bid anonymously?"

"Your Finance Officer would be your official representative at the bidding…I would be entitled to bid anonymously on your behalf up to a specified amount."

"Whatever it takes to get the house," said Harry quickly. He got up and left without saying goodbye, and as he left the building he hoped fervently that this time he didn't bump into Ron.

The next two days were spent in a rush. He brought all the newspapers he could find, and began taking notes on all of the jobs he was applicable for. A disgruntled Hedwig barely had time to rest at all as she was sent back and fourth with applications for jobs. In between this (and usually flipping through the job sections at the same time) Harry wrapped up his gifts. There was a handbag for Mrs. Weasley, a book on aircraft and piloting for Mr. Weasley, a toilet-seat that howled in disgust when you sat down on it for the twins (Harry had some difficulty wrapping that one) and a watch for Ginny all still to be wrapped and sent. Ron's gift (a gigantic box of Chocolate Frogs and a Card Collectors book) was sitting in its bag.

Harry had had many ideas about what to do with in these last few days, but he decided that he would regret it later were he to throw them away. Finally he decided to wrap them after all. He closed his newspaper (for it seemed wrong to look for work when wrapping Ron's present) and tugged a new sheet of paper and spellotape in front of him.

He was just trying to decide whether to wrap the two gifts separately or as one, when the doorbell rang.

He padded to the door to find Ginny stamping her feet in the snow outside. He didn't quite know what to say. Had Ron sent her?

"Hello Harry. I just came to say hello…and to drop off my present of course."

She held up a bag with little snowmen on the front and a gold bow stuck to the side. Harry nodded and let her in.

She tugged off her hat and hung up her coat on the peg before smiling at him in a friendly way and wandering through into the sitting room.

"Wrapping presents too, eh?" she smiled. "It's one of my favourite jobs…Percy used to pay me to do his…he never mastered the corners and the ones done by magic just fall apart after a few hours."

"Hair cut?" asked Harry, he had just noticed her long red hair was now considerably shorter.

Ginny nodded with a big smile. "You're the only person who's seen it yet…I've just had it done. Hermione…I was talking to her about it a couple of weeks ago. She said it would suit me…and with one thing and another I never managed to get it done."

"It does suit you," said Harry. She looked even prettier now.

"Thanks. This isn't for me is it?" she asked cheekily, peeking down at Ron's unwrapped gift.

Harry shook his head.

"Oh good!" she laughed. "I hate those cards. At least I hate the way boys seem to obsess over them."

"It's for Ron," said Harry awkwardly.

Ginny straightened up. "He spoke to me about the pictures," she said softly.

Harry thought of the picture, nestling under his bed. He was angry at Ron right now, but he wasn't angry at Ginny. Would he blurt out the truth?

"I know it was an accident. Hedwig's usually so reliable…" she shrugged. "Maybe the tie came loose or something. There are other ways of remembering Hermione."

She sat down, pulling her scarf onto her lap and slouching back.

"I'm sorry," said Harry. He throat seemed stuck.

"It's okay. We'll always remember her. I still have some pictures." Even this reassurance sounded bitterly disappointed. Harry had a very strong urge to sprint into his bedroom and return with the pictures just for her. He stamped it down.

He made a decision there and then. _After Christmas_, he thought. _I'll give them to her then…say I found them in the Garden_. This took some of the weight off of him. He could look through the pictures once more and then give them to the person who deserved to have them next.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked awkwardly. He and Ginny had not spent much time alone since they had broken up so long ago. They had stopped off at each others homes to drop things off and pass on messages, and they had spent lots of time together in a group with Ron and Hermione, but they were rarely alone together for more than that. Harry expected they would be alone like this a lot more without Hermione around and him and Ron on unsteady terms.

Ginny asked for tea with an alarming four sugars. He wandered into the kitchen to make some and to scavenge some biscuits he had bought in early December.

"Are you coming to mum's tomorrow?" asked Ginny as he returned with the tray. She had made herself comfortable, stretching out in front of the fire and pulling her cardigan onto her lap.

"I'm not sure-"

"Ron wants you there too," she said quickly. "He was upset about the pictures. Knowing him he said something stupid. _Please_. It'll be Christmas day."

Harry nodded unsurely and slumped down next to her.

"To Hermione," said Ginny. They clunked their mugs together and sipped at the tea. They ate the biscuits (declaring them to be awful, but still finishing off the plate) and after a while Ginny got up and completed wrapping Ron's present in a much more professional way that he would've been able to manage.

"I won't even charge you the customary three Knuts a parcel for this," she smiled.

After a while she moved onto insulting his previous wrapping efforts (although she admitted that when it came to the toilet seat, his guess was as good as hers) and unlike being around Ron, Hermione didn't feel quite as obviously missing. When they sat and talked it almost seemed possible that Hermione was still in her home reading a book or out doing a bit of last minute shopping.

"There a lot of papers on here," she said, getting back up and returning to the couch. Harry had got up to light the lamps. "The Daily Prophet, The Quibbler…_The Job Supplement?_"

"I was thinking of getting a job," said Harry wretchedly. "I'm sending off some applications."

"Lets hope Hedwig doesn't loose those them," said Ginny ironically.

"Yeah," said Harry awkwardly.

"It's good you're getting work though," she said suddenly. "I mean Ron seems- I dunno – _better_ for going out and doing something. He's not booked much holiday time this year…I think he wants to be doing something."

'_Spect he wants to see more of Janie_, thought Harry cruelly.

"And you?" asked Harry. "Have you booked a lot of time off?"

Ginny smiled. "Ah…but we people of the anti-theft division are always at the ready! At any given moment we might have to Apparate to a place being broken into by ne'er-do-wells and save the day. I'm getting fed up of wizards breaking into their neighbour's home to steal those in-demand Harry Potter dolls. If you've hexed one you've hexed them all."

"I'll tell my publicists to make more next year," smiled Harry.

"Maybe I could see about finding you a job with us," said Ginny thoughtfully. "You're more than qualified; you just have to Apparate to the place that's being broken into and hex the burglars."

"I'd like that," said Harry eagerly. "Are there any jobs going? I haven't seen any adverts."

"You're really serious?" asked Ginny incredulously. "Well Harry…I think we at Wizarding Securities will be happy to have you on the team. I'll ask my boss."

"Thanks," said Harry, feeling more hopeful about this than any number of the applications he had sent off.

The rest of the afternoon was spent putting up the decorations that Ginny had demanded should go up. A tree, considerably more wonky than the one Harry and Ron had conjured, had been created and pushed into a corner and a few baubles and bows had been found and were being put up. One pathetically knotted row of fairy lights had been found and sorted into something usable and Hermione's reindeer ornament was placed in pride of place on the highest branch.

"You know," said Harry suddenly, realising what it was about her outfit that was bothering him "I'm sure I've seen Hermione wear your cardigan before."

Ginny looked down at it on her lap. "Yeah, Hermione left it at my flat when she last came…I'd hate it just to be forgotten about, so why not wear it? I'll always think of her then when I wear it. It's better that keeping it unwashed an unused as though she'll come back for it."

Harry nodded, looking at it and trying to remember where Hermione had been wearing it.

They talked for a little while longer, Harry had never been so grateful for Ginny's company. He remembered why he had enjoyed going out with her so much. She was fun to talk to and be around, even when you were sad.

Ginny went to look for something worth eating for dinner, leaving Harry on the sofa, the wireless playing behind him. He picked up the cardigan, it was a chocolate brown. Utterly Hermione.

Ginny walked back in with more tea and some pathetic looking sandwiches. He dropped the cardigan.

"You don't like shopping much do you?" she asked as she plonked the tray down on top of the newspapers.

Once the sandwiches were eaten (and complained about even more than the biscuits) they tidied up and Ginny grabbed her scarf.

"I better get going," she said. "I want to go and show off my new hair to mum and everyone. I'll be stopping there tonight, so you might see me in my pyjamas tomorrow morning!"

"I'm coming wearing a hat made of mistletoe then," grinned Harry.

"I hate mistletoe," she said.

"You've not seen my hat yet," said Harry.

They smiled and looked at the floor.

"You know," said Ginny. "I was thinking. I could go out there and get hit by the Knight Bus right now. Hermione thought she had her whole life ahead of her after the war…how does that make me any different?"

"It just-"

"So, if you don't mind…" said Ginny. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

"In case you get hit by the Knight Bus?" said Harry.

"And because I wanted to," said Ginny honestly. "Goodnight Harry."

"Night Ginny."

It was only when Ginny had disappeared up the path and he had sat back down that Harry noticed that she had left Hermione's cardigan behind. He tucked it under his bed with his stash of pictures.

_After Christmas_, he reminded himself.

Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: Harvesters

**Author**: Emmylou

**Summary**: Grief is a selfish emotion, and when Harry and Ron become desperate for the things that meant so much to Hermione, will these things give them comfort or rip them further apart?

**Disclaimer**: _Harry Potter_, the characters, creations, and settings are the property of JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and other associated trademarks. This is a fictional piece created solely in respect of the original work with no infringement intended, nor any profit being made.

* * *

Christmas Day went quickly; Ginny kissed Harry on the cheek twice- once upon his arrival and once in a rather lingering manner at the end of the evening. Ron offered him a very formal apology, which Harry accepted without much feeling.

He spent most of the day sitting with Ginny and laughing over Bill and Fleur's continual arguing. "Fleur wants a cottage and Bill thinks they're too expensive," she whispered in explanation.

There was a solemn moment at dinner where everyone (even in their funny hats) toasted Hermione's memory and nearly everyone's eyes drifted to the unused place set at the table at least once throughout the meal.

Harry had drunk a little too much of the twins' experimental cocktails, including one rather dubious Muggle one called the Aneurysm (Mr. Weasley had downed seven and had to be carried upstairs), but he got home safely and staggered into his bedroom.

It was only then, as the world span above him, that Harry remembered the sale tomorrow. It would be worth it, he decided.

…

Harry was up early on Boxing Day. He gulped down some tea and made some toast as the re-runs of the Christmas specials played on the radio. He showered and pulled on his smartest day-robes and the new hat, gloves, and scarf Mrs. Weasley had given him.

He snatched up his wand and Apparated to Hermione's home, which had never appeared so different on the outside.

"Disgusting isn't it?" growled Ron, who had appeared seconds later with the rest of his family (Mr. Weasley looking rather the worse for wear). "They've got 'For Sale' signs up everywhere and they had her parents carting out her personal stuff…no thought at all. I can't do anything…I don't work in that department."

"Why don't you ask _Janie_?" said Harry.

"She said it's none of her business."

"She's right, it's not."

Harry couldn't help but think of Hermione in a situation like that. She probably would have marched up to the Head Goblin and shouted at him until he changed the date of the sale. But there was Janie, hair once again piled up impossibly high, looking very out of place in the sharp scenery of snow and hills. She was peering down at a clipboard and occasionally asking a goblin something.

"Come on, we'll have to get seats," said Mrs. Weasley. She led the group up the hill and immediately moved towards Mrs. Granger, who was standing without her coat in the snow, and crying weakly.

Everyone else took seas at the front and watched as the rows behind them filled up with possible buyers. Each seat was red velvet and gold, a ornate paddle resting on each one to bid with.

"Look, you can still see the lights," whispered Ginny, pointing to a lower window where their Christmas tree was just visible.

"It's not fair," spat Fred. "Look at them," he gestured to the people who were walking in and out of the house to view before taking their seats, "they look like kids drooling over Puking Pastilles in the shop."

"Brother…can I have a word?" said George suddenly. He and his brother got up and moved away for a moment, but no one had taken much notice as Fleur was requesting to go and look inside the house and Bill wasn't having it.

"I _like_ zis house!"

"It's Hermione's house."

"Not anymore it is not!"

"_Fleur_!"

Fred returned to his seat, a gleam in his eyes. "Rustled up a bit of entertainment that Hermione might've appreciated," he explained with a wink.

George returned a few minutes later and the entire Weasley family sat poised.

"You haven't done anything awful have you?" demanded Mrs. Weasley, unable to control herself. "I won't have you making a scene. Oh well I never!"

She pointed to a young Witch, who had arrived with a large tray of drinks.

"Disgusting," ranted Mrs. Weasley. "Absolutely disgusting. How is poor Helen going to manage…watching people toast the sale of her daughter's house like that? I want you to have a _word_ with people at that bank," she said furiously to Ron and Bill.

"No one touch the stuff," said Mr. Weasley in-between groans of pain.

"I should think you had enough last night," said his wife coldly. "'_Aneurysm_'- whatever next!"

The girl went round the rest of the gathering, not batting an eyelid when each of the Weasley family and Harry turned her down with a glare and barely held back mutters of 'disgusting'.

"What? Oh no thank you…" Janie bore down upon them, narrowly missing the girl with the drinks. "You don't mind if I sit here do you Ron?" she asked, squeezing in next to him.

"Well-" said Ron.

"Lovely. I'm here for work of course…bidding for one of my clients." She turned to smile at Harry.

Harry looked quite alarmed at her openness and said desperately; "Pleased to meet you."

"Is this your family Ron," asked Janie cheerfully. "How wonderful to meet you all, Ron may have spoken about me…I'm Janie Wechsler."

"She's a colleague," said Ron hastily. Harry glared at him.

"Charmed," said Mrs. Weasley, who was on her other side and seemed anything but.

"Are we ready to start?" called the Head Goblin, climbing up onto his podium. The whole group stiffened in anticipation. "Very well, thank you all for coming. We are here to arrange the sale of the house in front of you, formerly the property of a Miss. Hermione Jane Granger, currently residing in the property of the bank.

"I open the bidding at-"

A wizard behind Ginny coughed loudly down the back of her neck.

"Excuse me!" she snapped.

"Ahem, I open the bidding at two-thousand Galleons. Do I have a bid?"

He nodded towards a plump Witch at the back. "Very good- do I have two-thousand one-hundred?"

"Here," said Janie.

"Two-thousand two-hundred?"

"Here," said a Wizard.

The man behind Ginny started coughing again. Something about his cough must've been infectious because a man near the back started up too.

"Two-thousand three-hundred?"

"Here," said Janie.

"Two-thousand four-hundred?"

"Here," said the fat Witch, before she herself started coughing.

"Two-thousand five-hundred?"

"Here," said Janie, but she was almost drowned out by the cacophony of rows, and rows of people coughing with all the force their bodies could muster.

"I say, what's going on?" demanded the Head Goblin.

Fred and George, seemingly unable to contain themselves any longer, leapt up and turned to address the coughing crowd.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said Fred. "I'm so pleased you've enjoyed the drinks handed out by darling Verity here," he waved towards the young woman who was still holding the tray.

"Unfortunately for you, they also contained some of our new and exclusive Coughing Crystals," said George with a wicked grin.

"One slurp and you'll be coughing for days- great for Weddings, Christenings, and meetings," shouted Fred above the noise.

The Head Goblin was banging his gravel on his podium and shouting 'Order'. Fred and George ignored him.

"The cure is a snip at two sickles a go," shouted George. "But oh dearie me…" he patted his pockets in a theatrical display of absent-mindedness, "I only seem to have one…and the rest won't go on sale for a month. _Shall we all find out who'll bid the highest to get it?_"

"Do I hear one-thousand galleons?" yelled Fred.

"ORDER!"

"Can your stomach take a month's worth of coughing?" demanded George. "No sleep!"

"ORDER! DO I HEAR THREE-THOUSAND?"

"Here!" yelled Ron suddenly. He stood with a look of determination.

"Three thousand four-hundred," shouted Janie, looking positively terrified at Ron's sudden madness.

"No rest!"

"Six-hundred!"

"Nine-hundred!" yelled Janie.

People were getting up, staggering to the apparition point. Others were on the floor clutching their stomachs.

"No quiet."

"Four-thousand!"

"Four-thousand one-hundred."

"Eating's going to be fun for you all…"

"What are you _doing_ Ron?" wailed Mrs. Weasley as bidding reached six-hundred and the last few coughing buyers had been chased away by Verity, who was running after them with her tray.

"Two-hundred!"

"Three-hundred."

How far was Ron going to take this, wondered Harry. The determined look on Ron's face told him that he wasn't going to stop until he reached a point where he could not carry on because the bank wouldn't lend him that much. And Harry had told Janie not to stop until they had won.

As the bids rose alarmingly, Harry began to hope that Ginny really could get him that job…he would win because he had told Janie to, but Ron would probably put him in serious debt along the way. And if he didn't pay Ron would win the house by default and then _he_ would be landed with the debt.

"Six-thousand."

"Six-thousand two-hundred."

Harry was now officially in debt, but the house was worth it, he told himself. Even if he had to pay back a million it was worth it.

"Seven-thousand."

"Seven-thousand five-hundred."

"Eight-thousand."

"Ron no!" cried Mrs. Weasley.

"I've been saving mum," he said. "I've got a job…this is worth it."

The bids rose, nine-thousand, ten, eleven…

"No Ron," said Ginny suddenly. She grabbed his paddle and with a wave of her wand silenced him. "Don't make me body bind you!" she warned.

"Eleven-thousand," said Janie, looking with alarm towards her would-be beau.

"Do I have twelve?" wheezed the Goblin. Ginny tapped Ron's nose with her wand.

"Don't even think about it," she hissed.

"All done at eleven-thousand Galleon…going once…" Ron cast a desperate look at Ginny, "going twice…sold to bidder 1014!"

Harry sagged with relief, but not for the same reasons as the rest of the Weasley family. Mrs. Weasley, with a final shocked look at Ron (who had been given the use of his voice back and was using it to swear quite violently) dashed off to comfort a quaking Mrs. Granger.

"There, there…" Harry heard her say. "I'm sure if you ask the bank they'll tell you who the bidder was…maybe the person would let you come at visit…"

"Wonder if we can send that anonymous bidder a nice house-warming gift," snarled Fred.

"Who was it?" said Ron suddenly, just realising who was sitting next to him. He clutched at Janie's robes. "Tell me who it was!"

"I can't!" cried Janie, sounding quite terrified. "You know I can't!"

"Leave her alone Ron," warned Bill. "She's just doing her job."

Ron looked ready to cry. "I know…it's just I wanted to house to go to someone who cared. Not some _stranger_."

"I'm sure they'll love the house as much as Hermione did," said Ginny kindly. "We'll always have the memories of Hermione and we'll have the little things that will make us think of her. I think Hermione would have rather you read _Hogwarts: A History_ than tried to buy her house and keep it as some sort of museum."

Ron nodded, but it was clear he didn't really agree.

"Come on," said Mr. Weasley. "Molly's invited Mr. and Mrs. Granger for dinner…Harry you must stay too of course."

The group got up, moving away from the house reluctantly.

"What will happen now?" asked Ginny.

"Uh," said Ron, "T-the bank keeps possession until the house is sold officially in the New Year…then the house becomes the legal property of the buyer."

"Maybe you could find out who bought it," said George hopefully. "You and Bill work at the bank…"

"C'mon, we can't punish someone because they bought the house of a person they never knew," said Bill as they trampled through the snow to the Apparition point. Harry's insides squirmed.

"You know…I don't think I can make dinner after all," he said.

Ginny scrutinized him, clearly deciding he looked a bit peaky. "Of course," she said. "Today's been tough on everyone."

Harry thanked her and said goodbye to everyone (not quite able to look the Grangers in the eye) and left.

* * *

Thanks for reading, I'd love a review! 


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: Harvesters

**Author**: Emmylou

**Summary**: Grief is a selfish emotion, and when Harry and Ron become desperate for the things that meant so much to Hermione, will these things give them comfort or rip them further apart?

**Disclaimer**: _Harry Potter_, the characters, creations, and settings are the property of JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and other associated trademarks. This is a fictional piece created solely in respect of the original work with no infringement intended, nor any profit being made.

* * *

Harry went to sleep that night after perusing through the photographs once more and running his hands over the cardigan. It smelt of Ginny, but it was Hermione's…it had been hers.

The doorbell rang early in the morning and he opened it, blinking in the light and quite shocked to see that the slush from yesterday had melted totally and had made the ground muddy and wet.

"Awful isn't it?" said Ginny "Christmas over and no snow left."

"Hi Ginny," said Harry, wrapping his dressing gown tightly around himself in the cold.

"Sorry to drop by so early," she said, "it's just I've been meaning to drop by- I think I left my cardigan here on Christmas Eve. Have you seen it?"

"Er," said Harry. "I've not been in much…I'll have a look though-"

"Well I'm here now," said Ginny cheerfully. "Ill just nip in and check if you don't mind."

Harry couldn't think of anything to say, but moved aside to let her in.

"I'm sure it was on the couch," said Ginny. "I'll bet it's fallen behind some cushions or something."

She began rooting around, pulling two Galleons, a melted Chocolate Frog, and other bits from behind cushions as she did so.

"Doesn't look like it's here," she said with disappointment.

"Sorry," said Harry. How would it look if he explained it was in the bedroom? No, he would just give it to her with the box and explain that he found them both-

"Oh and I had good news for you as well," said Ginny. She clapped her hand to her head as if stunned she had forgotten. "I nipped into work today, you know, to check everything's ticking okay, and I spoke with my boss and he said that as Madam Grissel left to go live with her sister in Australia, he'd be glad to take you on at three-thousand eight-hundred Galleons a year with a possible rise after two years."

"What, without an interview?" asked Harry.

"Yeah," she said. "Well…you're famous Harry Potter aren't you. You hardly need an _interview_ to prove you can hex criminals."

Harry made them another cup of tea and they talked for a while, he nearly forgot that he was still in his pyjamas.

"How's Ron?" asked Harry.

"He's still upset about loosing the house…I hope he's not done anything stupid at work."

"He's probably off on a date," said Harry bitterly.

"You heard about this Janie girl too?" she said. "She's been after Ron for ages. I think Hermione's death has just confused him…he feels miserable and there's a pretty girl who wants to go out with him."

"She isn't that pretty," said Harry. "And he's just trying to replace her. He can't have the pictures and so he's going for the first thing that reminds him of Hermione!"

"I think it's like love," said Ginny thoughtfully.

"It's not love!" blustered Harry.

"With this Janie girl? No. But what Ron's going through is like love." She sat up straighter, clearly trying to decide how to phrase her point. "Look…that first summer after you came to stay with us…you'd been writing book plates for your books in the living room and when you got up you left one behind. I found it and Merlin if I didn't keep hold of it for months…I must have looked at it ten times a day. 'This book belongs to Harry Potter'. I knew you'd never go out with me then…but having that little part of you made it bearable. I think being able to look at those pictures, being able to have a little bit of Hermione, made it bearable for Ron."

She shrugged as if to say 'just an idea'.

Harry was still too angry at Ron. So what if he'd borrowed those pictures or lied about them or hidden the cardigan? He'd never try and replace Hermione with some annoying bank teller!

"I'm confused and upset too," he ranted. "And I'm not leaping on the first girl who reminds me of Hermione!"

"Your relationship with Hermione was different," said Ginny gently. "She was a close friend…but Ron…well we all knew he fancied her and she kind of liked him and they'll never be able to resolve that now. You want a friend back, you want to know things about her you never asked. Ron needs someone who fills a different role, that's all."

"So!" snapped Harry. "If you went out and were hit by the _Knight Bus_ I wouldn't go and snog Susan Bones because she's got red hair and a sense of humour!"

"I-" Ginny seemed at a loss for how continue. "Look, this isn't the time. Everything's up in the air now and I'm just going to go…can I use your bathroom first?"

"Through the bedroom," Harry muttered.

Ginny nodded in thanks and walked that way, still looking extremely shocked.

Harry stood still, head bowed, one hand on his neck in frustration with himself. Why had he said that? And what had Ginny done to deserve it?

There was a gentle thud from the bedroom, Harry stiffened and walked through to investigate.

"Ginny?"

He found her kneeling on the floor, rooting through a washing basket she had lifted down from the dresser.

"I saw this," she explained. "I thought you might have dumped the cardigan in here by accident…it's worth a look right?"

"I didn't," said Harry firmly.

"No…it doesn't look like it," said Ginny, poking through the basket. "Where do young men store washed clothes…hmm…" she peered around and spotted the unmade bed. "Well…if you're anything like Ron you'll have kicked most of it under the bed."

She crawled towards the bed and peered underneath.

"Hang on!" said Harry, realising that he had stashed both the box of pictures and the cardigan on the other side.

"Wait, I think I see it!" said Ginny. She stretched and triumphantly pulled the cardigan towards her. Unfortunately it dragged the box of pictures along with it and within seconds she had it in her hands.

"Harry? What's this?"

She didn't need to ask of course, the box had Hermione's neat label in plain sight. As if desperate to prove her suspicions wrong, she lifted the lid and sagged upon seeing it full. She lifted a bundle of photographs out, flipping through them with a set face.

"You didn't just find these did you?" she said softly.

Harry felt sick. "No," he said.

"I can't believe this," she said, still quietly and with great sadness. "You wouldn't…would you? The pictures…the cardigan…you knew where they were the whole time."

"I was going to give them back," said Harry quickly. "I just needed-"

"Hedwig didn't loose them, did she?"

"No."

Ginny pulled herself to her feet, still clutching the pictures and the cardigan and walked into the living room, not even looking at him as she passed.

"Ginny, let me explain," he begged, dashing leaping into action suddenly as though frightened she might try to dissaparate there and then.

Ginny shook her head. "I don't need…"

"You do…I have to- I want to explain."

"You lied, Harry," she said. "My whole life I thought- I _knew_- you were honourable and that you always did the right thing no matter what it cost you. But stealing the last pictures we'd ever get of Hermione? Hiding her clothes away? What else have you taken of hers and hidden away? What _else_ have you been lying about!"

Harry stared at the floor.

"Tell me!"

Harry opened his mouth, unable to look at her. "Janie-"

"Janie?" echoed Ginny. "What about her…? You barely know her."

Harry stared miserably at the floor. "The- the house."

Ginny frowned in confusion. Then…"_You!_" she breathed. Her face became stormy. "You…you, _you_ bought the house? You bought it to keep, you lied to Ron, and me, and _everyone._"

"I'm sorry," said Harry, his voice breaking in desperation.

"No you're not! You're sorry you were found out!"

"I was going to tell you," he said again. "I was…I just needed time."

Ginny couldn't keep her temper any longer. "No you weren't! You were going to tell us more lies. 'Oh look…I found your cardigan, oh look…I found the pictures.' What next? 'Oh look I found the deeds to Hermione's house!"'

"It wasn't going to be like that…I had reasons."

"Selfish ones!"

"Maybe they were," yelled Harry. "But she was my friend and maybe…just maybe…I wasn't thinking straight! So what if I didn't do the right thing! I can't be honourable and perfect all of the time! I'm not…_no one_ is. So maybe I just messed up okay!"

"You didn't just mess up," shouted Ginny. "You lied and lied until you were found out. You lied to me, and Ron, probably even to yourself."

"I'm sorry!"

"Drop dead," snapped Ginny. "Now I'm taking these to the people who deserve to have them – Mr. and Mrs. Granger."

"What about poor, deluded _Ron_?" said Harry icily.

"You're as bad as each other!" she shouted. "You're acting as though having her pictures or clothes or her house will make her come back. You just want to keep everything of hers that you can instead of just remembering her as a person. Historians remember people through their things. You're lucky- you have memories- hundreds and hundreds of them. You know what made Hermione who she was, you saw it every day. Be grateful for them and GROW UP!"

She yanked her coat back on, bundled her finds up in her arms and marched out into the mud.

"Ginny, listen to me!" yelled Harry after her. He was still in his pyjamas but he didn't care as he raced after her in the mud. She didn't even slow in her determined strides. He had no idea what to say, to make it all better.

"Go back inside Harry," she said.

"No!"

"Yes!"

He grabbed her shoulder and spun her round. She clutched tightly to the items in her arms in reflex.

"Tell me what to do to make it all up to you. _Please_ Ginny, tell me."

"You can't do anything. I can't see how I could forgive you for this," she cried.

It was cold and wet and Harry felt utterly lost and alone. "Please Ginny," he said, clutching her tightly.

"Get off me," she said.

"Ginny…I can't! You said that I have memories, well I do…but right now I want Hermione back more than anyone. I want to talk to her and for her to call me and idiot and tell me what to do to make it all better. But she's not here and I don't have a friend like her anymore…I never will have a friend like her again._ How do I make it better_?"

"You don't" she said coldly.

She shook his hand away from her and marched away. Harry stayed still until he heard her dissaparate.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I'd love a review. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Title**: Harvesters

**Author**: Emmylou

**Summary**: Grief is a selfish emotion, and when Harry and Ron become desperate for the things that meant so much to Hermione, will these things give them comfort or rip them further apart?

**Disclaimer**: _Harry Potter_, the characters, creations, and settings are the property of JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and other associated trademarks. This is a fictional piece created solely in respect of the original work with no infringement intended, nor any profit being made.

* * *

The rest of the day was just about one of the worst Harry had spent quite a few years. He staggered back to his bed, still muddy, and collapsed onto it. He got up occasionally to make toast or to get a glass of water but everything and did was coated with the terror of no longer having any friends at all. Was Ron, at this very moment, bearing down upon the house ready to beat the snot out of him?

After a while fear and curiosity got the better of him. If he stayed in bed, Ginny would pass on the story and the anger against him would build up. He wanted to get out there and talk to Ron, even if he did beat the crap out of him.

He dressed a bit haphazardly, forgetting totally to shave and headed off to the bank, determined to find Ron.

He arrived in time to hit the late afternoon rush and he had to elbow several people out of the way to head up to the front of the queue.

"Janie," he said breathlessly. "I need to talk to Ron."

"I need to talk to you about you financial status," said Janie, and deaf to his complaints, she called up a Goblin to take her place at the counter and steered him back through the corridors to the bare little room they had met in before.

"Now, providing you have got a job by New Year and there are no further complications you should take ownership of the house on the first of January."

"Great," said Harry. "How do I find Ron Weasley?"

"Now until then we've put an all-encompassing protection spell on the property. Trained wizards will arrive on the scene should there be any break-ins or unexpected tress-passing."

"Listen I really need to talk to Ron-"

At that moment Ron Weasley opened the door and stepped in. "Jane…I want to talk to you about- _Harry_?"

"We were just having a chat about Harry's financial status," said Janie smoothly.

"Oh," said Ron, barely listening. "Look Harry-"

"Has Ginny spoken to you lately?" demanded Harry.

"No- why? No, it doesn't matter, I just remembered something important! I was just coming to find you." Unexpectedly his face broke into a wild grin. "C'mon, I'll tell you on the way."

"But what about our discussion?" called Janie, as Harry was steered from the office.

"Later!" called Harry over his shoulder.

"Harry…I can't believe I forgot!" said Ron, practically dragging Harry along the corridor. "This is better than the pictures! D' you remember-"

"About the pictures," interrupted Harry, "I need to explain."

"Never mind," said Ron impatiently. "Do you remember back…back before the end of the war. We thought we were going to die? We were so scared?"

Pretty much all of Harry's recollections of the late part of the war involved one or all of them being scared they were going to die.

"Yeah…remember that night- we were holed up in that shack. We'd had to run and leave our wands behind and it was snowing and all we thought we were going t freeze to death, never mind the people after us. You remember?"

Harry nodded, it wasn't fair. After going through so many situations like that they all deserved to be alive and healthy…not mourning for an unfair loss.

"Remember all Hermione had on her was that diary she liked to write in towards the end? She thought she was going to die first…she was shaking so badly and she'd been out in the snow for hours before we had. We were all sitting on that soaking floor and she just sat and wrote in the diary. Remember what she said after the war?"

His eyes gleamed in triumph as Harry remembered.

"She-she said that on that night she wrote everything she'd ever want us to know if she died. I remember…she said that wanted us to read it if she died first- even if we were all two-hundred."

"And remember how she said we'd find it?" Ron nodded, encouraging Harry to join the dots together.

"She said she carved a map on the underside on a table with the locations. Safer than maps, she said." Harry looked up; the excitement that had Ron so happy was flooding him too. The argument with Ginny seemed a very long way away indeed. This was his chance to read Hermione's last message. Once he'd read it, everyone would know that he was over his lapses in judgement. They'd know he'd mourned properly and it was over. Ron wouldn't hate him and Ginny would apologise…"Would her parents have the table?" he asked eagerly.

"No," said Ron. "She bought most of the furniture with the money from the loan…it's still in the house."

Harry almost cheered. It would be easy to get the letter.

"But the bank will have security spells all over it…" said Ron with a frown. "We'll be hexed before we even get close."

They were now nearly running, they leapt over the velvet cord into the lobby; the girl at the counter shouted something after them but they didn't listen and raced ahead out of the bank towards Diagon Alley, through it, and into the Leaky Cauldron where they promptly disapparated and arrived, staggering slightly, in the mud at the bottom of the hill leading up to Hermione's house.

"C'mon…if we're quick we might get away before the spells kick in!" shouted Ron as he ran.

They staggered upwards, their robes and shoes caked in mud and everywhere else soaked in the rain that was pouring down.

"I don't remember it being this muddy before," called Harry over the noise of the rain as he pulled his shoe out of the mud and kept going after Ron, not bothering to put it back on.

He had not been Gryffindor's best seeker in many years without reason, even without his shoe he beat Ron to the door had tries two unlocking spells before Ron panted to a stop behind him.

"Spells aren't going to work…" called Ron, he had begun checking the visible windows in the decreasing light. "Here!" he tugged at a board on the window "SOLD" clearly painted over the 'For Sale' signs that they had seen at the auction.

Where Harry had the speed, Ron had the strength to get the board a good way off of the window before Harry needed to help.

The boys both grabbed a section of the wood each and began ramming one end into the window.

"Sorry about that Hermione!" Ron called to the raining heavens. The window smashed and Harry scrambled through it, leaving Ron the smash the final pieces away.

By the time Ron was finished, Harry had already tilted the first table over and had lit his wand to see in the dusk. Ron scrambled over too…and set off one of the loudest claxon sounds Harry had heard in a long time.

Ron swore and dashed to help Harry turn yet another table over.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" yelled Harry and they wrestled the dining table to the floor. "You'll get into trouble!"

"SO WILL YOU!" bellowed Ron back as the claxon wail became even louder.

"I WON'T!"

"This house is under the protection of Wizarding Securities!" rang a female voice through the house, clearly being magnified by the Sonorous spell. Harry and Ron clamped their hands to their ears, the noise was now unbearable.

"Drop your wand to the ground and come out of the house!"

"DON'T STOP!" yelled Ron. "KEEP LOOKING!"

They scrambled about the room, upturning the bare tables and desks. There was a crash as the door to the house was thrown open and sounds of footsteps were heard along with the other noise.

Harry and Ron raced to the kitchen, and Ron skidded underneath to check for any carvings.

The door to the kitchen flew open and a robed figure thundered through. Harry held up his wand.

"You are under arrest!" rang the woman's voice. "Come out from under the table."

Ron climbed out, but only to yell "This is the one!" and beginning trying to turn it upside down with help from Harry.

"All magical people found to be breaking and entering with be prosecuted under the- Harry? Ron?"

The woman lowered her hood, showing the short red hair of Ginny Weasley.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title**: Harvesters

**Author**: Emmylou

**Summary**: Grief is a selfish emotion, and when Harry and Ron become desperate for the things that meant so much to Hermione, will these things give them comfort or rip them further apart?

**Disclaimer**: _Harry Potter_, the characters, creations, and settings are the property of JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and other associated trademarks. This is a fictional piece created solely in respect of the original work with no infringement intended, nor any profit being made.

**Rating**: PG-13

**Pairings**: Well. I set out to write a Gen fic...but it surprised me by turning into a H/G fic…and I dislike H/G but I really enjoyed writing the ship in this. There are some R/Hr hints (I'm a R/Hr shipper, don't worry)

**Author's Notes**: This piece marks the end of nearly nine months of writer's block. Inspiration came while I was in the shower and for the first time in a long time I put fear aside and actually tried to write. No- I do not normally think about Harry Potter in the shower. I wrote this listening to Bing Crosby's '_Have Yourself a Merry little Christmas'_, I really recommend listening to it as you read.

* * *

Ginny waved her wand and the claxon sound disappeared, leaving a ringing silence mingled occasionally with pattering footsteps of wizards running around outside.

"What are you doing here?" she snarled, her voice still impossibly loud.

"Ginny, not is not the time to explain," snapped Ron. "We have to look at this carving."

Harry, however, had not moved since he had realised it was Ginny. He swallowed and stood up very slowly.

"Ginny," he said in quiet greeting.

"Harry," she said coldly. "Ron, stop that."

"Listen," snapped Ron. "You can arrest us later…but this is _important_."

"Oh I don't need to arrest you," said Ginny with a glare at Harry.

"I was going to tell him," said Harry defensively. "But then we remembered-"

"I don't care! Ron step away from the table!" Ginny waved her wand and the sound of running footsteps disappeared. "It's a scare tactic," she explained. "Makes thieves think they're surrounded."

Ron did as he was told, glaring at his sister. "You aren't really going to arrest us?" he said suddenly.

Ginny shook her head, her whole body shaking with anger. "Tell him!" she shouted at Harry. "Go on!"

"Uh," said Harry.

"Never mind," snapped Ginny. "I'll do it if that's the way you want it. Ron…those pictures…Harry didn't loose them and-"

"I'll tell him!" said Harry quickly, he had to say this himself.

"I-I'm sorry Ron. I-I needed more time. I lied, I didn't send those pictures off to you…I had them the whole time." He swallowed. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Ginny clearly made a silencing motion.

"Go on," she said.

"And…when you saw me talking to Janie…and when she was bidding for this house…she was bidding on my behalf."

Harry lowered his head. Everyone in the kitchen remained silent. Ron seemed to be building up to something…he was going to hex him or hit him…

"I don't believe this," said Ron quietly, in much the same way his sister had when she had first found out. "You…"

"-Lied, yeah I know," snapped Harry.

"I don't believe this…" echoed Ron. "I can't believe I was nervous about telling you I proposed to Janie! When you've been doing this all this time!"

"What?" demanded Harry and Ginny in unison.

"I'm going to marry her," said Ron defiantly. "I asked and she said yes. I was scared that you'd be angry at me…but all this time you've been lying and telling me that it was all 'Hedwig's fault' and that you don't know who bought the house! Were you planning it? Right from the beginning?"

"I wasn't planning it!" shouted Harry. "Why will no one understand? It just happened, I was upset and confused and everyone seemed to be dealing with it except me!"

"Dealing with it?" bellowed Ron. "All I think about night and day is 'Did she love me?' because I don't know. And I don't know what will be worse- finding out she did or finding out she didn't. Because if she did…if I have to accept that I had all that time with her that I didn't use it's going to kill me. But I need to know…I have to. You've taken everything else. Images of her- her home- everything. But I won't let you steal her last words from me!"

He kicked the table ferociously, knocking it so that its legs were facing upwards, and there, on the underside, was a rough carving. He knelt down to peer at closely.

"I know where it is!" he shouted triumphantly. "Don't' you dare follow me Harry- I won't let you take this from me- I won't!"

"What gives you the right to see it first?" shouted Harry. "She was my friend too!"

"And she'd be ashamed of it if she could see you now," yelled Ron.

Harry reeled back, as if physically hit. "Like she'd be happy with you refusing to let me see her last words!" he snapped back.

"YOU DID IT FIRST!"

"Well go on then!" yelled Harry, his voice sore with shouting. "GO ON! I hope it makes you happy…but I'm not letting you get it without a fight."

"STOP IT!" screamed Ginny. "You're both being-"

But Ron had, with a final glare at Harry, pushed open the kitchen door and run into the dusk.

Harry dropped to his knees, tracing the map to a point with a big oak tree.

"I know where it is," he said aloud triumphantly and like Ron dashed towards the kitchen door.

But Ginny leapt forward, seizing his arm.

"No! Harry…you'll destroy your friendship with Ron if you go!"

"It's already ruined!"

"Don't go…I'll never forgive you if you go. Hermione wouldn't have wanted-"

Harry was painfully aware that with every second Ginny was stalling him, Ron was racing towards the oak tree.

"You don't know what Hermione would have wanted," he shouted. "Why destroy the last chance we'll ever have of finding out?"

"No!" repeated Ginny, clinging to him and holding him back.

"Don't make me hex you Ginny," snarled Harry.

"She loved Ron," said Ginny suddenly. "I know she did, but he doesn't. You know she was your friend. You have nothing to gain. But I love you, and I you stay here you'll gain more than you would by needlessly fighting Ron."

She was crying. A very strong part of Harry told him to sag into her arms and forget about the letter. They could talk…Ron could come back and they could talk.

"Stay," she wheedled softly "Let Ron win this one. Let him know for sure."

"But what about Janie?" demanded Harry, the anger flooding back to him as quickly as it had ebbed. He had no idea why he was acting this way, but for all the futility and pain it was causing, no part of him was able to, nor really wanted it to stop. "What about her? If Ron's so in love with her why does he need Hermione's memory?"

"Because he's confused!" cried Ginny. "None of us understands what happened or how to make it go away…this thing with Janie is just a stupid attempt- listen to me!"

He had tugged his arm free of her grasp.

"I can't Ginny," said Harry in the most level voice he could muster.

"Would Hermione-"

"I DON'T KNOW!" he bellowed suddenly. "I don't know what Hermione would or wouldn't do…or what she'd say or what she wouldn't! So STOP ACTING LIKE YOU KNOW!"

He wanted to break something, but all there was were Hermione's furniture. He turned and marched to the door.

"I won't forgive you for this!" yelled Ginny as he opened the door and started through it. "If you go I'll never _ever_ forgive you!"

Harry turned and gave a desperate shrug before starting a mad dash outside and into the wet ground.

So may parts of him were telling him different things that all he could do was listen to the loudest, the one pumping through his body, which was _get to Ron_.

He raced blindly ahead of him. Ron had a head start, but he, Harry, could use his wand to light his path without the risk of being followed. And, of course, he was a faster runner. If he sprinted he might just…

"You'll regret this Harry!" shouted Ginny, running into the mud after him. She stumbled across the wet ground, not seeming to care that mud was splashing up her official looking robes, or that it was raining and cold. "I won't let you do this!"

Harry tried to block her out and concentrated on every step that bought him close to the oak tree. Her slipped as slid his way across the ground, so intent on staying upright that he barely concentrated on where he was stepping, just made sure he went as quickly as possible before gravity caught up. Ginny was in pursuit, he chest heaving with the run and the cold.

After a minute her gasps for air faded as he sprinted ahead, the thumps of her shoes died and Harry lifted is wand high above his head to see better.

There in the distance was Ron. He was crawling on his hands and knees, scrabbling in the mud.

Harry raced forward and began doing the same, pulling as much of the ground up as he could.

"Get away from me," snarled Ron.

"You've got Janie!" taunted Harry. "What do you need Hermione for?"

In the brief moments after he said this, Harry had never seen Ron look so angry. His face twisted almost comically and his cheeks burned beneath the mud streaked across them.

"I said keep AWAY!" he yelled. There on his hands and knees he shoved Harry so that he fell backwards into the ground. Harry fought himself upwards onto his elbows, feeling the pain from Ron's shove, before pushing himself forward at Ron and knocking him flying too.

The fight that followed was not brave or dramatic, but short and nasty. They rolled around in the dirt, scratching, kicking, pushing and dragging any part of each other they could reach. They were yelling so loudly neither of them could hear their own words and by the time Ginny scrambled towards them they were both sore and tired and yet still utterly furious.

She was shrieking and yelling and they were shouting themselves hoarse, still hurting any part of each other they could reach.

"If you want the letter so damn much then FINE!" shrieked Ginny, loudly enough to drown out the wave of noise from the boys. "Fine! HAVE IT!"

She jabbed her wand at the ground beneath them. The parts of it under Harry began to tremble and…he and Ron were thrown into the air way a mound up mud pushing it's way up from underneath them. The rolled down the newly formed hill, being bashed and hit by rocks and twigs that had been brought up as well.

"There!" shouted Ginny triumphantly. "I'll find it for you…I'll search the mud until I find it and then you can fight each other for it! That's what you want!"

In seeming hysteria she dropped to her knees and began to scramble through the mud. Ron tried to pull her away, but he lashed out at him and then resumed clawing and scrabbling.

Harry and Ron, both still on their knees, remained still. Neither of them spoke. They just watched Ginny's desperate motions.

"Gi-Ginny," choked Ron, but she did not reply.

Harry sunk into a sitting position, using his arms to remain upright.

"Ginny?" he tried. All the energy seemed to have left him. All the anger was gone as well. Now everyone he loved hated him, he'd hit his only remaining friend, and the girl he was pretty sure he fancied was crawling through mud, tears falling down her face so hard that she could only breathe in big gulps of air.

The adrenalin would seep from her too soon enough and then what would happen? How long would the three of them sit in the mud in silence? Getting up and going home…well it seemed a ridiculous notion.

They did sit like that for a long time, Ginny kept going with her laborious task, but it seemed more from not knowing what else to do that any real determination anymore. They just say in the dark and listened to the dull clumps of earth and Ginny worked.

Several times Harry opened his mouth to say something and the shut it again. They-he had done enough damage enough that it seemed impossible that anything he could say could bridge the gaps between them.

"I-I-" said Ginny hoarsely. "I think I've found it."

She was sitting at the base of the tree, covered in dirt. Harry and Ron crawled forward weakly, although both seemed tensed – as though ready to act should either try to snatch the box.

"How do we get it out?" asked Ron. He ran his hands through the hair plastered to his head and tapped at the tin with his wand, scraping the dirt away.

Harry had to wonder at the same thing – the box seemed to be embedded in the roots of the tree.

"You can't," said Ginny. She peered up at the tree thoughtfully, her face wet and shiny. "Not without knocking down the tree."

"I say we all accio it," said Ron. He looked to Harry.

None of them seemed to be addressing the fact that they were muddy and wet, their voices sore from shouting, and their robes and friendship in tatters. Harry just wanted to get the tin and leave…he'd deal with everything else afterwards.

"On three," he said. "One – two – three – _ACCIO TIN_!"

They all tried the spell…the tin trembled with the force but seemed stuck fast.

"ACCIO!" they tried again. "ACCIO!"

There was a groan of metal; surely the tree hadn't stuck wrapped that tightly around it?

"ACCIO TIN!"

"ACCIO!"

With a scrape of metal the tin shook harder than before and started inching towards them, struggling against the roots. Ginny reached and tugged at it, grunting with the strain.

"ACCIO!" bellowed Harry again.

There was a cracking noise…Ginny fell backwards with the force and the box shot free and bounced across the heaps of mud. This time the groan seemed to come from the very tree itself.

The ground beneath them trembled again, as though something beneath them was pushing upwards. Ron was the first to see what was happening.

"It's falling over!" he shouted. As one they began crawling away from the tree, wet, tired, and desperate.

The process was slow but with such a feeling of finality that even if Harry had been standing up he would have been unnerved by the collapse of the tree. The roots pushed upwards through the soil and the tree tilted slowly and heavily backwards before tilting far enough to fall heavily to he ground in a great crackling of branches.

It was all over. They had the letter and Ginny as crying silently. She leaned and picked it up, tossing it to the dirt in front of Harry and Ron.

"There you go," she said dully, staggering to her feet. "And much happiness may it bring you both."

And, with a heavy tread, her shoulders thrown back, she walked away from them in disgust.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title**: Harvesters

**Author**: Emmylou

**Summary**: Grief is a selfish emotion, and when Harry and Ron become desperate for the things that meant so much to Hermione, will these things give them comfort or rip them further apart?

**Disclaimer**: _Harry Potter_, the characters, creations, and settings are the property of JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and other associated trademarks. This is a fictional piece created solely in respect of the original work with no infringement intended, nor any profit being made.

**Rating**: PG-13

**Pairings**: Well. I set out to write a Gen fic...but it surprised me by turning into a H/G fic…and I dislike H/G but I really enjoyed writing the ship in this. There are some R/Hr hints (I'm a R/Hr shipper, don't worry)

**Author's Notes**: This piece marks the end of nearly nine months of writer's block. Inspiration came while I was in the shower and for the first time in a long time I put fear aside and actually tried to write. No- I do not normally think about Harry Potter in the shower. I wrote this listening to Bing Crosby's '_Have Yourself a Merry little Christmas'_, I really recommend listening to it as you read.

* * *

Harry remembered his next actions very vividly for a long time. He picked the tin from the floor and held it out to Ron. Ron pushed it back to him as though it were simply repulsive. After much head shaking and '_You_ take it!' looks Ron took it with fingers shaking from both nerves and cold and tucked it away beneath his robes. 

They trudged back down the Apparition point and left.

The next few days passed slowly and with deliberate quietness. Harry made mugs of tea and shaved and tackled his pile of washing. He felt comforted by such normality.

He made no move to contact people, but Mrs. Weasley dropped by on the third day with a box of pasties and a flask of homemade hot chocolate. She spent some time nattering about the weather and fretting over the state of Harry's socks. In way of news though, she was quiet.

"Ron and Ginny…they're well…it's just a delicate time for everyone right now," she said kindly. "Hermione was a lovely girl," she said suddenly. "She was a good friend to Ron and Ginny, and to you."

Harry nodded, thinking of the tin filled with Hermione's last words.

"I was planning to drop around and see Helen and David later…Helen's still inconsolable and David…he won't even see his patients."

"Mrs. Weasley," said Harry suddenly, "can you do me a favour? Hang on…"

He got up and darted to his bedroom where the box was still strewn. He snatched them and rushed back to Mrs. Weasley.

"Will you give them to Mr and Mrs. Granger?" he begged

Mrs. Weasley lifted the lid and peered inside reverently. She sniffled and nodded.

"Thanks," breathed Harry. Never had he been so pleased that he didn't want them anymore.

After Mrs. Weasley left, Ginny was the next visitor in the following days. She appeared at the door once more, but this time with an expression of deep annoyance.

"I'm not here to talk," she said stiffly. "I'm here to tell you that you're to begin working on the second of January-"

"Come in," begged Harry.

She gave him a look as though she deeply regretted it, but she held her head high and brushed past him.

"Well?" she snapped. "Who won? Who's read Hermione's last _magic _words?"

Harry shrugged. "I gave it to Ron."

She frowned, but said sorrowfully. "I'd like to believe that Harry, but I don't think I know you anymore."

"Ask Ron," he replied desperately. "I did."

"That doesn't make it all better," she said. Ginny pulled her coat around herself tighter and stared at the floor. "You lied and you damaged your friendship with Ron."

"And I ruined what I had with you?"

She looked up at him honestly. "I look at you and I don't see Harry Potter anymore. Not the one I knew anyway."

They were silent for a long time. Harry stated ashamedly at the floor. Ginny watched the Christmas tree.

"It's nearly new year," she said abruptly. "Why are the decorations still up?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno."

The side of her mouth moved, just fractionally, into a sharp smile before falling back into her set expression. "Well, I'd better be going."

There was another knock at the door, this time a loud banging. Harry walked quickly to get it and found Ron standing breathlessly at the step.

"I told you I don't want it!" he said without explanation and pushed the tin, still covered in dried mud, into Harry's hands.

"C'min," muttered Harry.

Ron hesitated uncertainly, but followed Harry into the sitting room.

"Mum told me you were here," he said grumpily to Ginny. "I'm glad you two've worked everything out at least. Never mind me."

"If you must know I came to pass on a message to Harry," said Ginny coldly. "I haven't forgiven either of you!" She spotted the box in Harry's hands. "You could at least tell me what it said," she said. "I would've liked to know, even if I didn't people fighting in the mud over it."

Ron shrugged. "I couldn't- I didn't want to…what if it said-"

"Is that all you care about? What she said about you?" demanded Ginny. "I know Hermione loved me, and she loved Harry, and she loved you! All I'm interested in is saying goodbye and remembering her in my own way."

"Here then," snapped Ron. He snatched the box from Harry hands and pushed it towards Ginny. "Go on!"

Ginny looked highly uncomfortable to be in such a position. She sunk onto Harry's couch and looked at the tin for a moment. "I-"

Harry and Ron remained standing, highly alert. "Go on Ginny," said Harry gruffly. "You deserve it."

Ginny ran one hand through her newly short hair and, with great care, reached for the lid. It seemed to take and absolute age for her to lift the lid away and peer in. Then, just as slowly as before she reached in and pulled out one battered, slightly damp piece of folded parchment. She opened it and, with a deep breath, read aloud.

"_To everyone, I destroyed all the diaries that I kept during the war, including the one that detailed how very much I cared for you all. It was very muddy and not very legible. If you cared enough to come and find this tin then I'm sure nothing I could've written would change how you feel about me, and I'm sure that you know how I feel about you too- Love Hermione_."

Harry felt all the weight drift away, he sank onto the couch next to Ginny, followed shortly by Ron.

They sat in silence for a minute before Ginny giggled. "That was SO Hermione." He giggles turned into a kind of desperate laughter.

Harry felt both shocked and guilty, but Ginny's laughter was so very infectious and he was at such an unsure point that he started laughing too, right along with Ron.

They laughed until they were sick with it and they slumped back breathlessly. "Trust Hermione," gasped Harry.

"There's never going to be another one like her, that's for sure," wheezed Ron.

"If I had a glass I'd make a toast…to Hermione!" said Ginny.

"To Hermione!" chorused the boys.

They lapsed into absolute silence, suddenly nothing felt very funny at all. Hermione really was gone- would she ever make them laugh like that again?

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "Really…I gave to photos back to the Grangers…I need you both more than I need Hermione stuff. I love her and I love you…I can do both."

"What about the house?" demanded Ginny.

Harry thought. "Would Bill and Fleur want it?"

"Fleur will probably kiss you again," said Ron.

"Fleur'll probably give you Gabrielle as a thank you gift," giggled Ginny. "At least until she realises how muddy it gets up there." This sent her into another peal of laughter.

It seemed to be a moment for this sort of thing because Ron confessed too. "I broke it off with Janie, I explained that I'd been grieving and everything."

Ginny reached and patted Ron's knee.

"Have you forgiven us?" asked Harry.

"I'm not as mad as I was, but you'll both need to earn the respect you nearly ruined again," she looked pointedly at them both.

"Well miss you Hermione," sighed Ron, looking sadly at the box.

""Yeah," said Harry and Ginny.

"C'mon," sighed Ginny. "Let's get rid of these decorations…oh Harry…look at that tree…the charm is falling apart! One more day and all of your decorations would've been on the floor"

"Don't be stupid Ginny," said Ron. "One more day and it would've been chasing him around the house…they do that when you don't take them down before New Year. Remember that time when mum got sick and Dad forgot?"

They started bundling up holly and tinsel. Harry proudly displayed his new and fail proof method of keeping fairy-lights un-knotted over the year. Just as he had dumped it back into a box there were sounds of a scuffle and Ginny gleefully tugged and intensely knotted string back out, giggling manically.

That night they stayed late, eating, talking, and playing with an ancient set of Gobstones.

"To Hermione," they chorused, clinking their glasses. "May she live on in us all."

**Fin.**


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